What is rough, though is having to be there so constantly, to go through the grieving. As I am an American, I must say that I also am not really happy with how our home hospice system depends, essentially, on slave labor-- and that is what it is when caregivers are not paid or given reasonable hours or workers' rights/protections. I do not begrudge the caregiving itself and I am grateful to the hospice workers who helped make hospice that much easier.
But what system makes it reasonable for a dying person to have ten to fifteen hours' worth of hospice a week, with the caregiver left to figure out what to do with the other 150 hours, without any pay, often at severe financial cost-- leave from work, etc? Think about it. Everybody else taking care was paid just for a few hours' work. Adding to my concern was the fact that I was not physically capable of assisting anybody unable to walk. I was upfront about that with hospice; I could not really help with a lot of tasks. Even if I could, it really does take than one person to move an unconscious person safely.
Also, end of life care truly is a bewildering tizzy of bills-- we had rehab care covered and then revoked after hospitalizations. The cost of nursing and care facilities is very high; essentially for many people, their only option is to lose all their assets and go on Medicaid to pay for nursing home care. That will never seem right to me, that we have gone from poorhouses to nursing homes that force people into near-bankruptcy just to pay for their care. Prisoners get free room and board, at least.
I am very, very fortunate that I had others who could take over the financial issues, and also there was life insurance that helped pay some of the end of life care expenses. Still. I loved my parents. I would have for the world wished they didn't have to spend a single minute worrying about how to pay for their final months.
If you knew them, too, you would understand why I feel this way. It's not just filial obligation; they were good parents.
However, all of that is over, as are the conversations with my parents, their stories and love. I've been letting go of all that.
I've been glad to spend time with the family I have left and be reminded how to live again (slowly! I'm not going to be a party person for a long while) before going back to the old house to pack, sort, and get rid of things.
To leaven this lenten chore, there's always improving some skills and enjoying the winter here. Nothing wrong with a fireplace, books, a cuddly snow-covered pup, and a little winter fun. Sled dog races, snowshoeing, and so on helps me remember why I came here.
In the wrong mindset, snow is bitter, cold, and buries all, erases life. In a better mindset, snow makes the world bright and clean and incubates the next spring. And I have lived here too long not to know that side of winter, too.